


Gentle

by harrysbun



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-18
Packaged: 2018-02-17 20:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2321771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harrysbun/pseuds/harrysbun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis' boyfriend hits him and Harry is there to help him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for shitty writing

Working behind a counter is something Harry's always been good at. Back home, he worked in a bakery, chatting up the customers and getting the shoppe quite a good reputation. And now, being at uni in London, Harry is now working for rent money for his little flat in the city rather than just to get a few numbers and away from home, which is a pleasant change. A coffee shoppe is rare in London, but this one is very successful. Harry gives that down to the free wifi and book selection. He also makes a pretty mean cappuccino if he does say so himself. Which he does. Often.  
"I'll see you tomorrow, Eden," Harry calls to the girl still behind the counter. Harry pities her. Closing up is literally the worst thing in the entire world and he's glad this is the one night he doesn't have to do it.  
"Oh don't bother to help or anything, 's not like I need it," she grumbles to herself, causing Harry to chuckle and roll his eyes as he steps out into the cold weather, clutching the lapels of his coat to keep his neck cold. The walk isn't far, just a couple blocks, but it's getting significantly colder so he should really consider taking the bus or investing a car. But, he knows the car thing won't happy anytime soon so he makes a mental note to look up the bus schedule and even look for where a bus stop might be. There has to be a close one.  
The city of London is still awake and lively, but then again it's not that late. This is as far as Harry's gone in the world so he knows it's very inaccurate to peg this as the best place in the world but he does it anyway. He likes it here; it's bright and full of people and is really pretty when it's dark and the building lights come on, illuminating the night. And he's still not used to it, even after a year of walking to the shoppe in the morning and home at night, he's not used to the beauty of the city because, hey, he's lived in the country for his whole life and now seeing the bright lights of London, just wows him. Harry tips an imaginary hat at the man behind the desk in the lobby at his flat building, laughing a bit when Tom just rolls his eyes at him and looks down at the paper in his hands at the same moment Harry steps into the lift and presses the number to his flat floor.


	2. Chapter 2

It's slow in the shoppe today, only a few customers have been in all day and only one has been in all day, sitting in the corner on her laptop with her red hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head with a pen cap stuck between her teeth. Harry contemplates going over there, chatting her up a bit. It's been a couple weeks since he's had a shag and a date but that's because he's been so piled up with school work and just regular work. But now, in the middle of first term, uni seems to be letting up and it's a rather boring day, so Harry steps out from behind the counter and saunters over to the incredibly studious girl.   
"You look like you're in need of a break, love," Harry says, words and tone practiced and mastered. She looks up at him, warm brown eyes shocked.  
"Uni prep doesn't really allow breaks," she sighs, her voice high. Harry could easily get annoyed with her voice.   
"Prep?" he inquires politely.   
"I'm going to Oxford next year," she explains shyly, batting her eyelashes in a wary attempt at flirting.   
"Oxford? Wow," Harry grins, taking it upon himself to sit down at the empty seat in front of her. "I could barely make it in the University of London."  
"It's not easy, hence all this," she gestures to the open books and laptop on the table.   
"Well you seem to be juggling it well; never looking up even when I dropped an entire latte," Harry smirks at her and he can't help but notice the small blush on her cheeks.   
"I noticed. I was just a bit preoccupied."  
"Preoccupied," Harry nods, "I see. Well I should leave you to it, you have Oxford to get into. I'll see you around..?"  
"Emma," she says quickly.   
"I'll see you around, Emma."  
Emma's face visibly falls as Harry stands, nodding and going back to her laptop with a small little sigh. Harry just smiles as he turns back to go to the counter, grabbing a latte cup and a sharpie, fully intending to write down his number with a cute little wink and comp her next drink, but the sound of the bell jingling against the door of the shoppe slows his actions.   
"Hello," Harry sing-songs, finishing the quick jot of numbers onto the cup. "How may I help you?"  
"Just um, a coffee.. please. Black."   
Harry frowns at the timid voice as he puts the cup down, looking up and seeing a boy fumbling with a couple notes in his little hands. He's looking down at the counter, fingers shaking and foot audibly tapping against the hardwood floor.  
"Anything else?" Harry prompts softly. Something about him makes Harry anxious, that if he used the wrong tone that he might break or something. The boy's eyes look up to the menu hanging above Harry's head but only for a second before he shakes his head.   
"No, thank you," he says.  
"You sure?"   
It's then that the boy looks up, looking at Harry questioningly. His eyes are puffy and the irises are blue, cheeks pink and blotchy and his lips swollen. It's obvious that the boy's been crying but Harry really doesn't think it's his place to say anything.   
"I'm sure," he answers, expression desperately trying to be angry but his tone still soft. Harry really tries not to smirk.   
"Okay. Three pounds and fifty pence," Harry tells him, grabbing a cup from the side and taking another sharpie out of his pocket. "And the name?"  
Harry looks at the boy, his eyes suddenly worry full, like he doesn't know his own name.   
"Um. Louis," he says, handing over the exact amount of money that is owed and shuffling over to an empty love seat, almost tripping over his laces on his Vans with his haste to get away from the counter. _Social anxiety,_ Harry thinks as he gets to work on the drink, shooting Emma a dismissive wink as she leaves the shoppe, books clutched tightly to her chest as she blushes once again because of Harry.   
Louis' eyes catch the sight of the pretty lady getting flustered because of the even prettier boy winking at her and he bites the inside of his cheek at the same moment his phone vibrates in his back pocket. Louis tries, he really does try not to flinch when he reads the name of who's texted him. He's in love. He shouldn't flinch when his boyfriend texts him.   
_On my way, love, I expect you to be there when I get home xx_  
He stands immediately, wincing at the soreness that occurs due to such hasty movements, but walks back to the counter, looking over the granite to watch the pretty boy's actions, wishing internally he'd go faster so he could catch the bus home before Jamie gets there. He knows how much Jamie hates for him to be late with his coffee. And usually, Louis'd just make it, have it ready beforehand. But, Niall came over yesterday and broke it, God knows how, and Louis couldn't tell Jamie about it without divulging that he had a friend over. So, this is the only coffee place in London and it's the best he can do.   
"Lou-" Harry stops his booming call once he turns and sees that Louis is already there, waiting for his order. "I erm- didn't know how you spelt it, so I just put Lou," Harry explains with a soft smile as he hands over the warm cup. Louis just takes it, nodding sharply and heading straight for the door.   
"Thanks," he mumbles before stepping out, deeming it to be a little rude if he didn't.   
"No problem Louis!" Harry calls, but Louis is already gone, basically running to the bus stop a block away. He knows he's got a little time to spare, but maybe if he gets there a good while before Jamie does, he can make some toast with jam, just to really make him happy. That way maybe, just maybe, he won't want to hit Louis tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

Louis becomes a shoppe regular, Harry already having his black coffee waiting every night just an hour before closing. Sometimes, if the line's too long and the boy keeps tapping his foot like he always does and repeatedly checking his watch, Harry just calls him up and hands him the drink, without even charging him. He's not sure why he does it, neither is Louis, but money's tight so he doesn't ask why, just mumbles a thanks and scurries out. And Harry, he just gives it to the fact that Louis always scrapes the bottom of his wallet for that fifty pence that he gets the impression that he maybe doesn't have the money every night for a rather large black coffee. Coffee's bloody expensive.   
Everyday, Harry gradually sees Louis get more antsy than the last, flinching whenever Harry calls his name or when the person behind him steps a little to far and bumps into him on accident. He never speaks to anyone, just taps his foot and then runs off as soon as the drink's in his hand. He never asks for Harry's name or answers his questions with more than a nod or a "thank you". Harry doesn't try to get offense to it, he really doesn't, but he does comp his drinks on occasions, the least he could do is make small talk with him. It only seems fair. Though, Harry really doesn't know why he cares. He doesn't get why it matters to him, why it bugs him so much that the boy can't just talk to him or properly thank him for spending four pounds on him nearly three days a week.   
That's why, when Louis comes into the shoppe a little later than he usually does, and gives Harry a small little smile, one you wouldn't be even able to tell was a smile if you hadn't seen him frowning for nearly a month, Harry's stomach leaps with excitement. Maybe he'd finally talk to him, give him a bit of insight on why he's so terribly rude to a lad who is so terrible nice to him.   
"Um, I won't be needing a coffee tonight," Louis says quietly when Harry's hand reaches for a fresh cup.   
"Oh?" Harry questions, lips involuntarily quirking up. It's the most Louis' said to him and he's not sure why it makes him so giddy.   
"No, um. I'd like a tea, Yorkshire if you've got it would be lovely." Harry can't help but notice that he seems a lot less on edge tonight, his words aren't as jumbled, his foot isn't tapping and his eyes aren't glued to the floor. Something's changed.   
"Tea? Funny, coffee drinkers usually aren't keen on tea," Harry says, mostly to keep the conversation going.   
"Right. Um, the coffee's not usually for me," Louis clarifies, body tensing with the reminder of why he even comes to this place. His answer makes Harry frown, only a little.   
"Your girlfriend?"  
"Boyfriend, actually," Louis answers, walking on eggshells again as he sits down on the large sofa rather than love seat as he watches Harry make the drink.   
"Oh. Right," Harry nods, sharply. The shoppe is empty, probably because it's so close to closing. Louis would have been here earlier if he didn't walk here rather than take the bus. Jamie's away on holiday with some mates, in some city in America, leaving Louis to have as much freedom as he can with a tracker in his phone. He has to remember to leave it at home after texting or calling him that he's going to sleep or taking a shower. He can't even call his mum or Niall or his sisters because Jamie can view all that, and will come home to do whatever he might want to do to Louis that night for possibly having any sort of contact with anyone that might jeopardise his image. No, we can't have that, can we?  
"Here you go," Harry says gently, frowning when he sees Louis jump on the sofa only to clear his throat and walk up to get his drink.   
"Thanks, Harry," Louis smiles.   
"I would ask how you know my name, get all sappy on you, but the name tag sort of gives it away, doesn't it?" Harry chuckles from behind the counter as Louis blushes. It does something weird to Harry's belly to see Louis blush, it was one thing to see that pretty girl from earlier blush when Harry wrote his number down for her on a napkin, and it's a completely other to see Louis blush, for no apparent reason.   
"Actually, a girl from the other night was trying to make conversation with me by telling me how cute you were. She may have said your name about ten thousand times," Louis admits. He doesn't admit though that he agreed, just internally, and referred to Harry as "the pretty boy" until the girl gave a name to face.   
"Ah, well I guess that works, too. I hope you spoke good of me?" Harry raises an eyebrow, just to see if he can make him blush again. It works.   
"She did most of the talking," Louis shrugs, suddenly very aware of how hard his heart is beating. He has a boyfriend. A nice boyfriend who only hits him when he does something wrong. It's not Jamie's fault Louis messes up a lot. It's Louis'.   
"Right," Harry clears his throat, picking up on the sudden turn of his mood and expects him to run to the door, like he always does. But, he doesn't. He holds his drink tightly in his hand and turns his body to the well stocked bookshelf. Some of the books are Harry's, some duplicates his mum or sister had sent him, oblivious to the fact that he already picked up them for himself. Louis eyes them for a second, and then moves on to the record shelf. Those are Eden's. She's one of those girls who owns a record player and a polaroid camera and flannel shirts and has purple hair. Her music taste is pretty fucking great, and if she weren't into girls, Harry would definitely consider marrying her.   
"Oberhofer," Louis mumbles, pointer finger tracing the spine of the record once he puts it back. "Wasn't sure many people knew of them."  
"I actually haven't got a clue who they are, those are Eden's," Harry explains, suddenly very aware with how he's been staring at Louis.   
"Shame. They're really good. My boyfriend saw them live in New York last year, sent some videos."  
"You didn't go with him?" Harry wonders aloud.   
"Um. No. Wasn't feeling well. Wish I had though, I think they're my favourite. But I'll probably just say that until I find a new band," he sighs quietly.  
"And where's your boyfriend tonight?" Harry asks, trying hard to disguise whatever it is underlying in his tone.  
"Um. Holiday."  
"You didn't want to go? He could be watching some other cool bands as we speak," Harry smiles warily even though Louis isn't looking at him.   
"No," is all he says, and Harry feels like he's crossed some sort of imaginary line. Louis just keeps sifting through the records, pausing on some and inspecting them intently.   
"How come you don't play any of these?" Louis asks, finally looking at Harry. Harry's eyes immediately see some purple under his right eye, going all the way down to the sharp point of his cheekbone. He tries not to stare, instead focuses on his question.  
"I'm not really sure how to use that thing over there," he nods toward the record player Eden donated, "and I don't think Eden would be very happy if I broke it."  
"Do you mind?" he asks, holding up an album that makes Harry grin fondly.   
"The Strokes are fucking great. Go ahead, I'll clean up to some wicked music," Harry bites his lip as Louis blushes again, for no reason. Harry looks away as Louis makes his way to the record player, turning around and seeing that Ben already cleaned up before he left twenty minutes ago. And no one's been in besides Louis so all Harry has to do is pick up the tea ingredients and wipe down the worktop as Alone, Together starts to play.   
Harry finishes up the little cleaning that had to be done, taking off his ridiculous black apron and folding it nicely over the counter as he steps out from behind it, checking his watch and walking to the front door, flipping the sign from closed to open, not really feeling like dealing with anymore customers this close to closing. Besides Louis, of course.   
"I should get going," Louis says once the song finishes, putting down a book he had in his hand. "Really shouldn't have stayed here this long anyways."  
"Then why did you?" Harry asks, not sounding rude just curious. It's never like he ever stays longer than a minute or two.   
"Dunno. Don't like being home alone, needed somewhere to go," he shrugs.   
"So you chose a coffee shoppe with a strange worker. I could kidnap you, you know," Harry sighs. Louis really tries to hide his smile, not wanting to make it seem as though that wouldn't be such a bad idea. He's got a boyfriend. A very, very nice boyfriend.  
"You'd have done it by now," he opts for, shrugging like he didn't think real hard about his response.   
"Unless this is all part of my master plan, to get you comfortable with me so I can lure you into the hectic city of London and just whisk you away," Harry suggests, words seeming to have much more seriousness behind them than they should. He doesn't even know where this is coming from, Louis' got a boyfriend and Harry isn't gay. He actually has a date with a girl, Jen or summat, tomorrow night.   
"On that note, I really should be heading out," Louis giggles. He fucking giggles and all of the air gets sucked out of Harry's throat.   
"Where're you headed?" Harry clears his throat, opening the door and switching off the lights as Louis scurries out, cup still clutched in his hand.   
"I was going to take the bus. But, a walk would be lovely. I don't get to do that much," he frowns a little bit, so little that if Harry wouldn't have seen how big he was smiling just a second ago, he wouldn't have noticed.   
"And why not?" Harry asks him, locking up the shoppe with the keys from his pocket. Louis just shrugs, obviously not wanting to talk about whatever it is.   
"Well, I walk too. I'm a broke uni student who can't afford a car or bus fare," he chuckles, really hoping he could get him talking again. Louis just smiles at him, eyes lifting from the ground and boring into Harry's. And, Harry's not really sure what goes on in his belly at that moment but it's enough to make him wonder.   
"I should go. 'S getting late."  
"Yeah. Me too. Gotta be up early tomorrow," Harry breathes, suddenly very breathless.   
"Thanks. For the tea. And for the coffee, all the other nights," Louis sighs as he finally gets in what he's wanted to say all night. Because, hey, that's the only reason he came by tonight, to thank a stranger for giving him free drinks on occasions. That's the only reason he came by.   
"No problem. Really," Harry assures him with a nod and a smile.   
"You're too nice to me, yanno," Louis sighs, walking backward from Harry with his bottom lip between his teeth.   
"You probably deserve it," Harry shrugs. That right there makes Louis freeze. It stops him in his tracks and Harry's got no idea why but Louis can't help but feel like yeah, maybe he does deserve someone to be nice. But, maybe he doesn't. Maybe he deserves all the shit that he gets from Jamie.   
"Maybe I don't," Louis opts for. "g'night Harry."  
"Goodnight, Louis."


	4. Chapter 4

Harry would like to say that he didn't wait 'round everyday for Louis to show up at night, that he didn't look hopefully over the door every time it opened in hopes that he'd see a beautiful blue eyed boy walk in and order a tea. He can't help but dread him coming in and asking for a coffee because for some reason, the thought of Louis getting a drink for his boyfriend just does something to Harry. Irks him for an unknown reason. But, Harry doesn't see Louis for a little over two weeks. And it really bums the shit out of him because the other night really made Harry happy, being able to talk to him after weeks of failed attempts.   
And when Louis finally scurries in through the door, the snow gathered on his beanie immediately drying as he steps into the warmth of the empty shoppe, Harry beams so brightly that he's sure Louis can feel it even though his eyes are glued to the ground as he shucks his coat and mittens off.   
"Hi, Lou, where've you been?" Harry greets cheerily, finishing up on wiping down the countertops. Louis just shrugs, his shoes squeaking against the floor as he walks over to the shelf of books, avoiding eye contact with Harry.   
"Lou?" he frowns. His little arms are hugging himself, fingers gripping the fabric of his loose jumper on his sides.   
"Been busy," Louis whispers, sniffling a bit. And Harry really doesn't know what it was that dragged him from his spot, what it was that made his heart _lurch_ for this boy, but it's something enough to move his feet and come up to Louis, setting a hand on his shoulder. He flinches back, hard enough to knock Harry's hand off him and then looking over him, only for a second, before he turns his attention back to the books.   
"Sorry. Just.. are you okay?" Harry tries, clearing his throat. And then Louis sighs, only for a moment, and turns to Harry, looking down at the floor but giving Harry a full on view of his face.   
"Shit," Harry swears.  
Louis' bottom lip is oozing out blood, his right eye a dark purple and his left just a little bruised. His cheeks are a dark shade of red, probably from his crying but it also seems as though he's been slapped. Hard.   
"Shit," he says again, "come on. Come here, let me- I'll just- come on." Harry grabs his hand, despite the little protest Louis gives, and drags him behind the counter, still holding onto his cold little hand as he runs a cloth under warm water.   
"This has gotta be against some sort of health code," Louis murmurs.  
Harry doesn't respond, just keeps on dabbing away the blood on his lip and the smeared blood along his jaw and cheekbones. Harry tries to release Louis' small little hand to keep his face still, but Louis just whimpers, shaking his head subtly and squeezing tighter onto his hand. Harry frowns a little bit, confused, but doesn't object, instead continuing to try and rid Louis' beautiful face of these awful bruises.   
"This is as good as I can do," Harry sighs, tossing the cloth into the sink, telling himself he'll wring it out later. Lou's face looks a little less bad, no more blood but three isn't much Harry can do about the purple bruising around his eyes and cheeks.   
"Thank you," Louis breathes, almost inaudibly.   
"Do you want some tea? Anything?"  
"D'you have hot chocolate?" Louis asks, voice so terribly small. And Harry's not sure why his heart beat alters, just a little bit.   
"Yeah. Yeah, we've got it. Go have a seat, I'll bring it to you," Harry tell him. Louis nods, giving Harry's hand one more squeeze before stumbling out from behind the counter and toward the small sofa by the book shelves.   
Louis' not sure why he came here, of all places. Especially after what happened. He knows it's risky, going out at all let alone to a public coffee place with a stranger who is working behind the counter. He just found himself getting off the bus at the stop a couple blocks away from this little shoppe. And he's really, _really_ not sure why he really doesn't want Harry to leave his side or why he really wishes he never let go of his hand or why he wants him to be close to his face again like he was before. He shouldn't be wanting that, or even wanting to come here after he gets the shit beat out of him, but he does. And it's fucking terrifying to Louis.   
"Here, love," Harry says gently, making Louis jump and then wince with the immediate pain that follows. Louis' shaky hands grab the warm mug and bring it down to his lap, attempting to a leg under himself but gives up when the pain he feels winds him.   
"Thanks," Lou says again, a bit breathless.   
"You all right? What happened?" Harry finally gets to ask, sitting down beside Louis, facing him. Louis closes his eyes, breathing in deeply from his nose. He really wishes Harry would have just left him, not bothered to help him get cleaned up or at least told him that it's three minutes before closing when he walked in. But he didn't, and part of Louis is grateful, but the other part just doesn't want to deal with it right now.   
"'S nothing I'm not used to," Louis shrugs. And it takes a while for Harry to get it, but when he does, he frowns.   
"This happens often?" he questions.   
"Usually not this bad," Louis shrugs.   
"And who does this to you?" Harry cautiously asks, really hoping that the answer he has in mind isn't the one Louis is going to say. Harry looks at him, really looks at him as he fiddles with the cuffs on his too large jumper so that they cover his small hands and then he wraps them round the white mug, inhaling with a shaky sigh.   
"It's my fault," Louis finally says. And Harry doesn't expect to get as angry as he does because, well, he doesn't know Louis enough to feel this.. _protective_. But he does and he's fucking seething because what person in a relationship thinks it's okay to hit the other.  
"It's not your fucking fault, God, Louis," Harry sighs, rubbing a hand over his forehead in frustration.   
"It's okay."  
"No, Louis, it's not. Do you need me to call the cops or something? I will, Lou, I promise-"  
"No, Harry, please don't," Louis suddenly pleads, a dainty little hand reaching out and gripping Harry's knee tightly. "Please, don't. I can't, he'd know and he'd- he'll do- I don't know what he'll do but please Harry. No."   
"Louis," Harry breathes, "you can't just expect me to let you go home tonight, knowing what it is that he does to you behind closed doors." Harry's hand falls to Louis' still on his knee and he hears Lou's breath hitch before he moves it, tucking it back underneath his jumper sleeve.   
"You have to. I really don't even know why I came here, really, but please. You can't tell anyone," Louis tells him, throat constricting as he tries really hard not to cry. It hurts his bruises under his eyes too much to cry.   
"Louis-"  
"Harry, I'm begging you," and Louis looks up at Harry in a way that makes Harry's heart flutter and he really hates that Louis can just look at him and get him to do whatever it is that he asks of him. "Please."  
"Fine, Lou, but.. you have to let me know when he does this. Come over here. To make sure you're okay," Harry tells him, really trying to sound stern with him.   
"Can't promise that," Louis shrugs.   
"Then promise to try. You're telling me to keep this a secret, the least you can do to ease my conscience is come over to let me know this guy hasn't fucking killed you," and at that, Louis winces, hard, making Harry frown.  
"'M sorry, love, it's just.. I don't know," Harry closes his eyes momentarily before scooting a little closer to Louis.   
"You're okay?" Harry asks him softly, setting a hand on Louis thigh. Harry can't help but feel like his hand is on fire.   
"I'll be fine," Louis tells him, shifting a little uncomfortably with Harry's sudden proximity.   
"Does he know you're gone?"  
"Dunno. He left right after, saying he was going up to Bradford for a couple days," Louis' lip wobbles and Harry just wants to take his pain away.   
"Why.. did he have a reason, or..." Harry trails off, not really knowing how to ask "did he have a reason for beating the shit out of you or was it just for fun?".  
"I used all the hot water."  
"Fuck," Harry breathes. "You said it's not bad all the time... but it happens a lot?" He knows he shouldn't be asking, because he knows he's just gonna not like the answer. But he can't help it.   
"Not this bad," he says again.  
"But it happens," Harry pries.   
"Usually it's not visible. On my arms or my stomach or my back. Sometimes all."  
"Jesus," Harry shakes his head. "Are you hurt? Those places?" Louis just nods, taking a sip of his hot chocolate.   
"Can I see?" Harry blurts out. Louis looks up at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Sorry. Just.. sorry."  
"It's ok," Louis assures him, leaning forward and setting his cup down on the table in front of them. And Harry almost feels like the conversation is over due to such an awkward question, but when Louis reaches for the hem of his big jumper, Harry freezes.   
"You don't have to, I was just curious," Harry says quickly.  
"'S okay. Just.." he pauses, eyes looking toward the door, "please make sure no one walks in. I'm not the greatest sight to look at," Louis says.   
"You're lovely," Harry simply answers, cheeks going a bit pink as he stands to lock the door and close the blinds, switching the sign to "closed". When Harry gets back to the sofa, Louis' jumper is off and in his lap, leaving him in just a soft grey tee shirt.   
"The worst bit is on my stomach," Louis begins, "but I've got some here," he lifts the sleeve of his shirt, revealing purple and and blue and some yellow bruising, the obvious shape of fingers imprinted onto his beautiful skin, "and here," he shows his other arm, putting his palm up and showing the inside of his forearm, revealing more dark purple bruises. "He usually just puts 'em where he knows I'll cover them. Today.. he was just. Angry, I guess."  
Louis puts his jumper back on, Harry feeling very slightly upset that he wasn't able to see his torso, but he won't ever say that. Not now at least.   
"How long?" Harry asks him.   
"That's just it. He wasn't always like this. We were dating nine months before he first did it. But then he promised it'd never happen again. And then..." he trails off, finally being able to bring his legs up under him comfortably, ignoring the stinging pain in his bum. He neglected to tell Harry that bit, that'd be too much to share.   
"You don't wanna leave?" Harry can't help but ask. Louis just shakes his head and leans his head back against the sofa. "Tired?"  
"Yeah. Don't get much sleep at home," Louis tells him, closing his eyes and snuggling closer into his own jumper.   
"You're going back? Tonight?" Harry feels a little nervous for his answer and he's really not sure why.   
"Dunno. He said he won't be back and I usually don't spend much time there when he's not there," he says, keeping his eyes closed. And Harry can't help but feel a little endeared at the image, Louis' eyelashes laying peacefully on top of his cheeks and his lips slightly parted.  
"Well you can stay here as long as you'd like. I open tomorrow so I guess I could stay here too," Harry offers. Louis giggles, nose scrunching up as his eyes open and look to Harry.   
"I don't think it's very appropriate to sleep in a coffee shoppe with a lad I don't even know," Louis tells him.   
"Sure it is," Harry shrugs. Louis just smiles and closes his eyes again.   
"Just five more minutes," Louis says, yawning a little. Harry not-so-subtly moves closer, scolding himself on the inside because, Louis' got a boyfriend and Harry, again, _isn't gay_ . But, when Louis' head drops from the back of the sofa and onto Harry's shoulder, none of it seems to matter to either of them.


	5. Chapter 5

It's three days later when Louis walks back into the shoppe, making Harry still in surprise because it's probably only noon, not usually the time Louis comes in. But, when Louis gives Harry a lopsided grin, his bottom lip no longer swollen and his eyes a lot let purple, Harry doesn't seem to mind because, hey, he gets to see him. And for some reason, he finds himself quickly going through the three people's orders in front of Louis just so he can talk to him; see him properly.  
"Hi," Louis says shyly, voice quiet until he turns and sees the door shutting, the last customer leaving. He clears his throat then.   
"Hey. You good?" Harry asks him, already starting on his Yorkshire tea as he moves to take a seat on the sofa. Harry notices how well sunlight looks on Louis skin.   
"I'm good," he nods.   
"You're early," Harry tells him, smiling at him from over the stacks of paper cups with the fancy design on them.   
"Yeah. Um. He's at work. Until ten," Louis says quietly, looking down at his little thumbs.   
"Well I work until ten-thirty," Harry says, smiling, "so you can stay as long as you want. I could use the company."  
"Just you today?" Louis asks, looking up at Harry as he approaches with a mug in his hands.   
"Yeah, Fridays are surprisingly never that busy," he shrugs, sitting down. "Few customers here and there."  
"I'm sorry if I seem like.. a burden, or something," Louis says after a moment, twirling his little pinky round in the cream-less tea.   
"You're not," Harry shakes his head. "At all. I could use the company, don't have many friends around here."  
"Yeah, right," Louis scoffs, rolling his eyes.   
"What?"  
"I see you pulling all the birds, Harry," Louis nudges his shoulder. "Quite pretty, they are." Harry's not sure what tone it is that Louis has underneath what he's saying but it's enough to raise speculation.   
"Birds aren't friends, Louis," Harry challenges.   
"But they're company."  
"Well if we're going on company," Harry sighs, "I think I'd like to have you round than them. You've got nicer hair."  
"I'm a bloke, pretty sure breasts beat dicks when it comes to straight lads," Louis says, laughing a little bit.   
"Dicks are pretty cool," Harry shrugs again, winking at Louis as his breath audibly catches at the same moment the door to the shoppe opens. And Louis' is left on the couch with an open mouth and flushed cheeks as Harry begins chatting with a rather pretty customer. 

Louis is very distracting to Harry. And it's not that he is even doing anything. He's just sitting there, reading some book or another and is completely captivating. And Harry tries, he really does try to stay focused on the drinks he makes, not wanting to add to much sugar or the wrong syrup, but he really can't help it, and ends up messing up about three drinks. Luckily, they were all girls and they just giggles about it probably because of how attractive Harry is and how profusely he apologised. He may or may not have received their numbers as their way of an actual apology.   
"You really should start collecting those, put 'em in a box and save them for forever," Louis says, nodding to the pieces of paper with ten digits on them that Harry stuffs into his pocket as he sits down beside him.   
"Nah, I don't even always use them," Harry shrugs, taking the book from Louis' hands and flicking through the pages.  
"But you get them."  
"I'm sure you'd get them too if you were into that. I'm sure you even get bloke's numbers. I've never gotten a dude's number," Harry offers, not really liking how Louis is making Harry out to be much greater at pulling birds than he actually is. It's all unintentional for Harry.   
"I never got the opportunity to get numbers. I've been taken since I was nineteen."  
"And how old are you now?"  
"Twenty-one. Going to be twenty-two in December."  
"Damn, that long?" Harry sighs. He's not really sure why the knowledge makes him a little upset. "My longest relationship was only eight months."  
"Well it's not like I can just leave," Louis mumbles under his breath, almost silently enough that Harry couldn't have been able to hear him if he wasn't really listening. And Harry frowns, putting his rather large hand over Louis' knee and squeezing gently.   
"Sorry," he says.   
"'S not your fault," he shrugs, fighting the urge to put his hand over Harry's.   
"Does anyone else know? Your mum maybe?" Harry rubs little circles into his jeans with the pad of his thumb.   
"No. No one," Louis sniffles and Harry really hopes he doesn't cry. He hates seeing him cry.   
"Why?"  
"They won't understand."  
"I don't understand, you don't even know me, and you told me," Harry reminds him. "I don't understand why he hits you or why you _let_ him hit you."  
"Okay," is all Louis says.   
"No, not okay," Harry scoffs, shifting away from Louis and taking his hand off him. Louis almost wants to whimper with the loss of contact.   
"Well I don't know what you want me to say," Louis argues.   
"I want you to say that it's _not_ okay and that you're leaving him."  
"I'm not going to say that," Louis says under his breath.   
"Why, Louis?"  
"Because, Harry," he suddenly snarls, "I can't just leave him. I love him." And at that, Harry flinches, and he flinches hard. And he's really not sure why he does, but his fists clench in his lap and he doesn't know what emotion overtakes him.   
"Right," he says, "right. Yeah, ok. You love him. But that doesn't mean you let him beat the fucking shit out of you to a point of where you have to run off to some shitty coffee place."   
And then Harry's up, walking away from the sofa with so much anger and storming into the back room, leaving Louis to have silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

When Harry comes back out, Louis is gone.


	6. Chapter 6

When Louis comes back, it's Sunday, and both Eden and Harry are working behind the counter. The shoppe is rather crowded today. Louis can see Harry smiling and laughing with a rather pretty customer as he makes her drink, shooting her his dimples. And Louis swoons right along with her, leaning against the counter full of sugars and creams and straws as he watches in awe. He really does think he's quite beautiful.   
And as Harry gives the girl her drink, his eyes lift up and meet Louis', causing his huge grin to turn into a soft smile, making Louis' cheeks pink up. Harry leans over to whisper something in Eden's ear, her eyes soon finding Louis, too and then she smiles and nods at Harry who unties his apron and comes out from behind the counter.   
"Hey you," Harry says softly, coming up in front of Louis and taking notice of his fading bruises and scabbed lip.   
"Hi," Louis says.   
"I'm sorry," Harry tells him, now standing in front of him. It's now that Louis notices how much taller Harry is than him. "For Friday. I didn't mean to judge or anything."  
"It's okay. I shouldn't have left, I just didn't think you wanted me around after that," he shrugs, looking down at the floor. Harry wants to hug him.   
"Well I did," Harry beams. "But let's let bygones be bygones. I'm on my lunch break. Want to go get something to eat?" The words feel weird coming from Harry's mouth because he never asks people to "go get something to eat". It's usually "yours or mine?".   
"Harry-"  
"It's not a date or anything!" Harry suddenly gushes. "You've got a boyfriend and me, I'm just. I don't know. But you know, I'm hungry and it's three o'clock and y'know.. everyone likes food."  
"I uh, don't have any money," Louis mumbles, almost ashamedly.  
"I'll pay." Louis eyes him skeptically.   
"This sure sounds like a date," Louis narrows his eyes jokingly at him.   
"No, not at all. Two friends eating lunch, is all," Harry assures him.   
"Fine," Louis chuckles. "But just as _friends_ , Harry."  
"Of course," he smiles widely. 

Harry's never even thought that there was a possibility of him being into guys. The idea never crossed his mind because ever since the age of twelve, he's been able to get off to girls with big breasts. But now, as he watches Louis talk animatedly about his family and how he played footie in school, he can't help but realise how beautiful the boy is; the way his eyes scrunch up when he giggles and the way his nose wriggles when he speaks of something he doesn't like. He's just so beautiful and is probably the most beautiful person Harry's ever met. And it doesn't even matter to him that Lou's a guy, he doesn't see why it should affect the feelings he's getting for him. Because boy or girl, he's never met someone who he can laugh this much with, who he can get on with so nicely.   
"Shouldn't you be getting back to work?" Louis asks Harry, pulling Harry away from his thoughts.   
"I shouldn't even be working today, Eden just wanted the company," he explains.   
"She's very pretty," Louis says, eyes falling down to the table as he picks at a croissant Harry so generously paid for.   
"Eden? Yeah, she is," Harry agrees, confused.   
"Did you get her number, too?" Louis' voice is small and Harry just wants to cuddle him.   
"Yeah, her girlfriend gave it to me," Harry snorts. Louis' eyes lift and they're glinting, matching his small smile.  
"You just seem to attract the homosexuals, don't you?" Louis giggles, suddenly very happy with the idea that Harry and this girl aren't anything more than coworkers. He has to keep reminding himself that he's got a boyfriend.   
"Maybe it's my charm," Harry offers.   
"Maybe it's your dimples," Louis pokes at his cheeks. Harry just rolls his eyes.   
"Let's get going, yeah?" Harry asks him, just because he doesn't know how much longer he'll be able to last without leaning forward and just kissing him. Louis' got a boyfriend, he's taken. He can't do that. 

When they arrive back at the shoppe, the chaos has died down, leaving Eden to just continuously wipe down the counters. They had both lost track of time and didn't even realise that they were gone for nearly three hours.   
"About fucking time," Eden grumbles, glaring at Harry who just rolls his eyes at her.   
"Eden, this is Louis, Louis this is Eden."  
"Hello," Louis says shyly, shuffling from foot to foot so half of his body is hidden behind Harry. He's incredibly shy.   
"Hi, there, Louis," Eden calls to him loudly. She's anything but shy. Harry and Eden continue talking about something or other and Louis stays hidden behind Harry, eyes lingering on his hands at his sides. He knows it's wrong to want to hold Harry's hand, to want Harry to hug him and hold onto him and maybe even kiss him. He's got Jamie. But to be fair to his thoughts, he hasn't hugged, kissed or held his hand in over four months. When they have sex, Louis is on his stomach, face buried in the pillow or table or couch cushion or cabinet; wherever Jamie decides to bend him over and tug down his pants to his knees and just press into him, dry and raw. Louis winces at the memory of last night, how angry Jamie was about something that happened at work and decided to take it out on Louis, thrust so hard into him that it left marks and he bled for two hours in the shower, curled up in a ball and avoiding the bruises along his hips and torso with his own grasp.   
"You ok?" Harry whispers to him, turning to face Louis as soon as Eden is in the back room.   
"Yeah, just. Thinking," Louis nods.   
"Are you hurt?" Harry asks him, turning fully around so that Louis' eyes are at level with his neck. Harry can feel his breath on him. Louis nods.   
"Where?" Harry's voice is quiet, barely a whisper. Louis swallows and takes his little hands to the hem of his jumper, lifting it to above his belly button, giving a full view of the dark purple bruises along his hips.   
"And a little on my belly, but not as bad," Louis whispers, picking up his jumper and showing dark red scratches.   
Louis' breath catches in his throat when Harry's fingertips brush the violent bruises, eyes following down to where his light skin meets Louis' tan, soft skin. He swallows harshly when he sees the obvious shape of fingers causing the bruises.   
"Were you guys?.." Harry can't find it in himself to finish the question; not really being able to think of Louis and his boyfriend in that way.   
"Yeah. Well, he was, mostly," Louis answers truthfully. Louis is never really into it when they do it, it's rare when he is.   
"Jesus," Harry breathes. "I'm.. sorry, Lou, you don't deserve that." Harry's hands cup Louis' bare hips gently, circling his thumbs softly into his warm skin. Louis' breath is shaky as he drops the hem of his jumper so that it pools on Harry's wrists, moving to rest them on Harry's arms, almost wanting to shove him away. But, he doesn't.   
"'S whatever," Louis breathes, feeling his heart quicken with Harry touching his bare skin.   
"No, Lou. You need.. gentle," he says the last word on an exhale, making Louis' eyes flutter shut.   
"I'm okay."  
"No," Harry shakes his head sternly. Louis almost chokes when he inches closer, his lips just a few inches away from Louis'. He can feel Harry's breath on his face and it's intoxicating. He whimpers when Harry's hands move up his sides, thumbs circling oh so gently. No one ever touches him as though he's something that can easily break.   
"Harry?" Eden calls, making Louis jump. Harry's eyes open at the same moment he sighs, dropping his hand's from Louis' sides but taking his hand from his arm, lacing their fingers together as he turns around.  
"Yeah?" Harry tries really hard not to sound so upset with her.   
"Can you close? Diana wants me home right now, something about dinner getting cold."  
"Yeah. Yeah, no problem. Are you leaving right now?"  
"Yeah. You sure you're good?"  
"Yeah."  
"Okay," she says loudly, coming out from behind the counter and giving Harry a look when she sees his and Louis' hands clasped tougher.   
"Bye Eden," he says harshly, trying to get her to leave. He doesn't want her to make Louis uncomfortable.  
"Bye Harry!" she snickers as she leaves the front door. Harry sighs in relief and turns back to Louis, squeezing his hand to get him to look back up at him.   
"I should get home," Louis says quietly, eyes trailing down to Harry's chest. He has the uncontrollable urge to snuggle him.   
"Is he home?" Harry grabs his other hand and laces their fingers, leaning down so hips lips are almost touching his forehead.  
"Not yet."  
Harry just hums, stepping closer, making Louis' breath audibly catch in his throat. Harry's eyes fall to Louis' lips, seeing how red and wet they are due to Louis continuously chewing at them. But Harry doesn't mind, he's endeared by it, actually. And he feels the uncontrollable urge to just kiss them to get him to stop worrying at his bottom lip; just to feel if they're as soft as they look. And wow, he's never wanted to kiss someone as much as he wants to kiss Louis.   
"Can I kiss you?" Harry blurts out. Louis whimpers quietly, eyes falling shut as he inhales and exhales soundly through his nostrils.   
"Harry," is all he says.   
"I know, I'm sorry," Harry sighs, swallowing and shaking his head, hoping to clear his mind of absolutely _needing_ to kiss this boy who happens to have a boyfriend.   
"Not now," Louis tells him quietly. "I'm not.. just not now, Harry."  
"Right," he nods, trying to hide his disappointment at not being able to feel those lips on his.  
"I'm sorry," Louis whispers, "I should go. It's not right for me to be here." Louis leans forward, just a little bit and presses his forehead to Harry's chest. And at that, Harry releases his little hands and wraps his arms around his waist tightly, pulling his entire body to his. Louis whines, high in his throat and puts his hands on Harry's shoulders.   
"Hurts," he whimpers, immediately causing Harry to loosen his grip.   
"Sorry, sorry," he gushes, setting his hands gently on Louis' hips.   
"It's okay," he pants, "just.. just not on my waist."  
"Where?" Harry asks softly, tracing Louis' sides with his fingertips. Louis grabs his wrists and brings them to just above the middle of his back.   
"Just.. careful. Sore," he explains, nuzzling his face into the fabric of Harry's shirt and setting his hands on Harry's biceps, keeping him close.   
They don't know how long they stay the way they do; Louis's face in Harry's chest and Harry's face nuzzled in Louis' neck, but they don't mind. Louis hasn't been held so gently and carefully in maybe a year and it's nice; nice to know that the boy holding him doesn't want to hurt him or bend him over and use him for his own pleasure.   
"I'd never do that to you," Harry whispers into his hair, almost as if he could read Louis' mind. Louis just swallows and pulls away, not being able to help the tears that fall down his cheeks. Harry just wipes them away with the pads of his thumbs.   
"I'll see you later, Harry," Louis whispers, sniffling one last time before scurrying to the door and walking out.


	7. Chapter 7

Harry can't help his frown as he leaves the shoppe, taking the keys and locking up the glass door. It's been a few days since he's seen Louis, and he knows he can't come everyday, but considering how they left things the other night, he's anxious to see him again. But as he locks the door to the shoppe, he knows that it's going to be another night without seeing Louis. As Harry turns around and and shoves his hands in pockets for warmth, he sees Louis; lip busted, eyebrow bleeding profusely and the right side of his face a dark red, almost even purple.   
"I'm s-sorry I'm late, I just-" Harry cuts him off gathering him in a soft hug, cautious of whatever bruises and soreness the boy might have. Louis cries into Harry's neck, fingers curling into the coat Harry's wearing, not even caring about how much every part of his body aches.   
"Where is he?" Harry asks him.   
"L-Left. Right after. Back to B-Bradford," Louis hiccups. Harry shushes him, softly running his hands up his back, trying to ignore the way he winces.   
"I'm heading back to mine," Harry says, "do you want to come? Or do you want to head back into the shoppe." Louis doesn't really know what to say or what he should say all he knows is that he doesn't want to leave Harry's side.   
"Don't leave me," he whines, hating that he sounds so pathetic.   
"I won't, baby, come on. Let's go to mine, get you some warm clothes," Harry coos, taking off his own coat and pushing Louis away gently so he can set it on his shoulders, covering his thin white tee shirt. It's obvious he didn't think much about what he was wearing when he ran out of his flat.   
"Lean on me, baby, it's okay," Harry tells him as his legs quake. Harry puts an arm over Louis' shoulders, keeping him from falling over as he walks with him toward his flat. 

Harry staggers into the door of his flat, flicking on the lamp in the entry as he keeps Louis' steady, stumbling into the living room and helping Louis gently sit down, biting down the anger he has when he sees Louis flinches as he sits on his bum.   
"I'm gonna go get a cloth, don't move, love," Harry tells him, wiping his hair off his forehead, frowning when he sees more blood at his hairline.   
"Don't go," Louis' lip wobbles.  
"I'll be back, baby," Harry assures him, quickly running off to the kitchen.   
Louis nearly bowls over with the sobs that overcome him with the loneliness he feels when Harry leaves him, even for the two minutes he's gone.  
"Shh, hey I'm right here," Harry sits down beside him, taking his dainty little hands in his own, trying to calm him down. "Look at me, Lou, come on."  
Louis lifts his face, looking up at Harry through half closed eyes, tears still pouring out and breath still shaky. Harry dabs at the boy's beautiful face with a warm cloth, gently going over the bleeding wounds on his lip and eyebrow. Louis' hands go to Harry's free one, holding it tightly between his own and planning on never letting it go.   
"What happened?" Harry asks softly, thumb circling over Louis' knuckles.   
"He wanted sex, a-and I was so sore from bef-fore and I told him I couldn't a-and.." he trails off, crying again.   
"Shh, it's ok. We don't have to talk about it," Harry whispers, wiping away his tears. Harry tries, he really does try not to show how disgusted he is with Louis' boyfriend. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"  
"My stomach. And my back," Louis answers shakily. It's then that Harry notices the bright red on Louis' shirt.   
"Can you take your shirt off? Just so.. so I can help clean you up, baby," Harry says softly. Louis whimpers at the name. His shaky fingers go to the hem of his shirt and he hesitantly lifts it, pulling it over his head and setting it in his lap, not wanting to get Harry's couch all bloody. Harry tries to not be affected by the beautiful sight of a shirtless Louis, instead focuses on the dark red bruise on his ribs and the blood oozing out of it.   
"'M cold, Harry," Louis breathes, abdomen quaking as it gathers goosebumps.   
"I know, baby, just let me finish. You said on your back, too?"  
"Little," he nods.   
"Okay, I'm gonna go behind you," Harry tells him. Louis wants to cry again when Harry's hand is released from his as he goes behind him, running the cloth over the bleeding scratches running from his shoulder blades to above the dimples at the bottom of his spine.   
"When I'm finished, do you want to use my shower? Get cleaned up or something?" Harry asks him, fighting the urge to press his lips to the juncture of where Louis' necks meets his shoulder.   
"Don't want you to leave me," is all Louis says. And Harry's heart contracts for this sad, sad boy who knows nothing but pain and hurt and who just wants to be cared for and be treated with gentle touches.   
"Okay," Harry says. "Okay, Lou. I'm gonna get you some clean clothes, ok? Is that okay?"  
"Yours?" Louis sniffles as Harry sits in front of him again.  
"Yes, love, mine." He just nods. "Do you want me to bring them to you? Or do you want to come with me?"  
"Too cold to move," Louis says, "but hurry."  
Harry doesn't think he's moved so fast in his life.   
"Here," Harry offers him his lavender jumper, knowing how much Louis loves to wear jumpers; he once told Harry he likes how small they make him feel. Louis runs his thumbs over the soft fabric. "And here, I don't know if you wanted sweats or shorts or whatever."   
"Thank you," Louis tries to smile up at him but only starts to cry again.   
"Don't cry, love. Come on, put these on, get warm." Harry pulls him up gently, taking the jumper from his hands and pulling it carefully over his head. The sleeves are far too long and it falls to mid-thigh.   
"Wow, you're tiny," Harry smiles fondly. Louis just points and grumbles something along the line of "'m not tiny".   
"Erm.. d'you want to change into these in my room or the bathroom.." Harry fidgets uncomfortably.   
"Here's fine," Louis pants, cheeks burning up. He reaches for Harry's hands, shakily bringing them to the button on his trousers. He's not sure why he's doing it, why he's not shying away from Harry seeing him in just his pants, but he's not.  
"Okay," Harry breathes, voice a bit higher than it usually is. He pops the button and pulls down the zipper, nervous hands pushing down the denim, having to step closer to get them off of Louis' rather large bum. He's careful there, remembering the pain he must have there. The denim pools at Louis' socks and Louis kicks his trousers away, blushing profusely.   
"Um.. what would you like to wear? The sweats?" Harry feels extremely hot and he knows it's wrong to feel aroused at a situation like this; Louis is so vulnerable.   
"Yes," Louis nods. He holds onto Harry's shoulder for balance as he steps into the warm clothing, shivering when Harry's fingertips brush over the back of his bare thighs.   
Harry's standing up again, in front of Louis and breathing harshly. He's really not sure why that whole thing made him so worked up; maybe because he's new at the whole boy thing. But damn, he's never been this aroused at something so insignificant. But then again, nothing with Louis is insignificant to Harry.   
"Harry," Louis sighs, little hands going to his hips and pulling him closer.   
"What's wrong, baby?" Harry lifts a hand to Louis' cold cheek, mindful of the possible bruising on his skin.   
"Can we lay down? I'm.. tired and I need you.. I need you to.. I just need you," Louis whimpers.   
"Yeah, baby, we can. Come on love," Harry grabs his hand and leads him to his bedroom, trying to ignore the way his heart is beating erratically in his chest at the thought of Louis being so _close_ for an entire night.   
"Sorry for the mess," Harry murmurs, it being his turn to blush. Louis just laughs weakly because he really can't even tell with the dim lighting coming in from the hall.  
"'S fine," he assures him.   
"You can lay down, I'm just gonna get changed and I'll be right there, ok?"  
"Okay," Louis nods and carefully gets on the bed, wincing at the pain that overtakes him as he crawls to the middle, laying down on his side and bringing the large blanket over himself. Louis almost thinks that Harry's run off or something, annoyed with his presence in his bed, but then he feels the bed dip behind him.   
"Can I.."  
"Yes. Please, Harry," Louis whimpers again, needing to feel Harry's warmth on him. Harry cautiously comes up behind Louis, putting an arm over his torso and gently pulling him back so he's flush against Harry's chest.   
"You're so cold," Harry whispers. Louis can feel his lips move against his ear and he shivers some more.   
"Please don't hurt me," Louis can't help but suddenly say. "Don't hit me."  
"Baby," Harry groans, "I would never." And Louis believes him.   
Louis grabs Harry's hand from his belly and brings it to the hem of the jumper, lifting it so Harry can rest his hand on the bare, unscratched skin above the waistband of the borrowed sweats. Harry's breathing is laboured, his body not being able to handle the skin to skin contact. Sure he's been with girls, but never with guys. And this right here is new, and raw and something unexplored so right now, he feels like a fourteen year old boy again.   
"Lou," Harry pants, lips grazing his ear. He just wants to kiss everything on him.   
"I want.. you to t-touch me. I'm just. Scared." And Harry loses all his self control, just presses his lips to just behind Louis' ear, kissing and sucking at the cold skin.   
"I could never hurt you. Ever," Harry assures him. "And I'm not just saying that because I want to kiss every single _part_ of you. I'm serious. Never in a million years could I ever think of hurting you. In any way." Harry's hand on Louis' stomach is itching to move, anywhere; higher, lower, just anywhere to feel more of his skin.   
"Harry," he breathes when Harry presses his lips to his pulse point, kissing and sucking, but not too hard. He doesn't want to leave any marks. Yet.   
"This is just so new to me. Boys. And I can't _control_ anything."  
"Kiss me, touch me.. just please, gentle," Louis pleads, lacing his fingers with Harry's on his stomach. And then he turns his head, giving Harry a full view of his beautiful face before he leans down, catching Louis' lips with his own. And everything is suddenly hot and desperate and Harry doesn't think he's been this hard so quickly in his while entire life. Everything feels new as they move their mouths together, like everything is finally _right_ , that this is what they've both been waiting for their entire lives. And when Louis presses a shaky hand to Harry's thigh, so close to where Harry needs friction, he pulls away with a groan.   
"We don't- you don't have to, I'm fine. I don't want to move too fast, baby," Harry breathes, resting his forehead against Louis'.   
"Do I disgust you?" Louis' voice is small and he sees a tear escape. "That's what he tells me. Says he can't even get hard when he sees me naked anymore." And Harry's heart breaks a billion times at hearing that.   
"You don't disgust me, Louis. You do everything but that to me. I'm just.. flustered and I don't want to push you to where you're not ready," Harry explains. "Just getting you into these clothes got me so hard, Lou, you're so bloody _fit_ -" and then Louis kisses him, lifts his little hand to tangle it into Harry's hair.   
Harry's hand is careful as it leaves Louis' stomach and to his neck, holding him gently and angling him so their mouths fit perfectly together. And Louis won't stop whining, especially not when their tongues poke at each other. And the noises he keeps making, the desperate little whimpers and moans go straight to Harry's dick, making it so much harder to keep control of himself, to keep from taking Louis' little body and doing something that might push him away.   
"Can I touch you?" Harry almost cries as he asks. He need it. He needs to feel him. And Harry really does have to hold in his tears when Louis shakes his head no.   
"Can't. But let me touch you," Louis says against his lips. "Let me touch you, Harry, please." And Harry's throbbing erection really doesn't put him in the position to say no.   
"God, yeah. Please," Harry sighs. Louis hand travels up to Harry's chest, thumbing over his clothes nipples for a second, causing Harry to choke on absolutely nothing, before his hand goes back down, stopping over the waistband of Harry's boxers. Louis buries his face in Harry's neck as his hand slips in, fingers combing through his pubic hair before gripping Harry's hard dick in his hand.   
"Oh shit," Harry swears, lips finding Louis' hair and panting heavily. Louis thumb swipes over the head and Harry bucks so hard into Louis touch that he almost slips from his hand.   
"Harry," Louis whispers, moving his hand up and down the soft skin of such a hard shaft. Louis can't help himself as he scoots closer to the side of Harry's thigh, subtly rutting against him. And Louis' hand moves faster, desperately wanting to feel and see Harry lose control because of him. He definitely doesn't see himself as sexy and doesn't see why Harry would even get so hard by him but it's a new thing to him and needs to know how good he makes him feel.   
"Do I make you feel good, Harry? Am I doing good?" he desperately asks, mouthing at Harry's neck as his hand works faster, matching the rhythm of the way his hips thrust against Harry.   
"So good, baby, you're doing so good. You make me feel so good," Harry breathes heavily, pushing his body to the side to give Louis more friction. Harry's never been this close to an orgasm before in his life. He's never felt this hot being with a girl, never been with someone who makes him feel this good with just a handy.   
"I'm gonna come, baby, you're gonna make me come," Harry's hands fist the sheets in his hands so hard.   
"I'm gonna make you come, Harry? Me?" Louis has never felt so good in his entire life.  
"Yes baby, you, all you. Oh- oh fuck," and he comes, hard, comes so hard he sees white.   
"Harry, Harry, Harry," Louis pants, pushing his hips one last time into Harry before he comes, too, sobbing into Harry's neck as his hips keep rotating, riding out the greatest orgasm he's ever had in his entire life. And he doesn't know why he's crying again, maybe because it's the first time he's came in months, but he is and when he pulls his hand out from Harry's pants, he clings to him with every fibre of strength he has left in his body; tangling their legs and putting his arm over Harry's torso as he shoves his face into his chest, crying.   
"Hey, why are you crying? Did you not want to do that? Shit, Louis, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." Harry's sounds completely breathless.   
"No, it's just.." he nuzzles into Harry's neck now, pressing his lips to his overheated skin. "I don't know. But thank you. Thank you for letting me touch you, you're so pretty Harry, so pretty, thank you," he babbles on.   
"Shh, hey it's okay. Are you hurting? Is this potion okay? D'you want me to hold you from behind?"  
"No!" Louis clutches Harry's shirt as he tries to move. "No, please, I want to be right here, please Harry."  
"Yeah, baby, we can stay right here," Harry agrees, still so breathless from the best orgasm of his life. "Thank you. You didn't have to touch me, Lou, that's not why I want you here."  
"It's not?"  
"No, baby, it's not. You don't have to touch me to get me to want you," Harry assures him, taking a hand and gently lifting Louis' face from his chest so he can kiss him softly.   
"Harry," Louis says again, his lip wobbling.   
"Don't cry, Lou," Harry tells him, pressing his lips to his once more, just to get him to call down. And it works.   
Louis finally stops shaking against Harry's chest and just lays peacefully on him, both of them not even caring how sticky their pants are as long as they don't untangle their limbs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't gonna add this part in, but I just really thought it'd fit nicely & I really wanted to write about the morning after xx
> 
> thanks for reading, all the love .x

Harry wakes up to feathery hair tickling his nose and small little snores filling his ears. He looks down, careful of the sleeping boy strewn all over his body, and sees Louis' eyelashes laying restlessly on his cheeks, his thin lips slightly parted as he inhales and exhales soundly. And usually, Harry's not into cuddling or someone sleeping all on him; it makes him uncomfortably hot. But right now, he doesn't really think there's anywhere he'd rather be than with this beautiful boy on him. He doesn't really know what it is about Louis; what it is that makes him so vulnerable to a point of where he'd literally do anything to make him happy; anything make him forget all the shit going on in his life, but it's something he's never felt before.  
He softly brushes his lips against Louis' hair, using a free hand to rest it on Louis' which lays at Harry's' side, loosely fisting his shirt as though Harry could just easily slip away from him. But really, Harry is damn sure that he isn't going anywhere. Harry lays awake, running his fingertips along Louis' back, carefully lifting the jumper slightly; just because he wants to feel his skin on his. This is new to Harry, and he really can't get over how soft Louis' skin is or how warm he is or how comforting it feels to have any part of his body touching Louis'.  
Harry sends Eden a quick text, saying he is going to be late into work today and maybe not even show up. He doesn't think she'd mind, she always calls in, saying Diana isn't feeling well or that she just wants to be home with her. And Harry's never understood that before; didn't get why you'd want to be with someone _all day_. He's never wanted that until now.  
Louis suddenly flinches, hard enough to shake Harry entirely, and then stills against Harry, as if waiting to get yelled at or something. He's barely breathing, so tense against Harry's chest, that Harry knows he's awake, even if he can't see his face.  
"Baby," Harry says gently, knowing that's all Louis needs. All he deserves. Gentle. "It's alright, Lou." Louis lets out a shaky breath, somewhat relaxing and letting his hands go loose again, little fingers curling around Harry's sides.  
"'M sorry," he whispers, "would you like me to move? He doesn't- he never lets me.." and he trails off, nuzzling his face into Harry as though moving is the last thing he wants to do.  
"No, Lou, I don't want you to move," Harry assures him, pressing his lips lightly to the clammy skin on Louis' forehead.  
"You sure?" he asks halfheartedly. Louis is positive he'll break if he has to be anywhere away from Harry.  
"Yes, love, I'm sure. Are you okay? Does it hurt to lay like this?" Harry asks again, just like he did last night. He doesn't want himself to come before Louis, ever.  
"Not anymore," Louis tells him.  
"D'you wanna get up? Are you hungry?"  
"No, I'm okay," he says. "I, uh.. I just want to lay here. With you. Is that alright?" His voice is incredibly small, how it always is when he tells Harry things like this, and Harry is so smitten.  
"Yeah, darling, it's alright."

Louis wakes with a jump again, panting heavily as he takes in the surroundings of Harry's bedroom and Harry's chest beneath his cheek and Harry's arm carefully wound around his waist and Harry's lips pressed carelessly to his hair in his unconscious state. Louis' never been this close to someone who's sleeping. Jamie never touches Louis and never lets Louis touch him while they're in bed, saying Louis gets too warm and sweaty to be touching him at night. Sometimes he even makes Louis sleep in the guest bedroom, saying that his immense body heat is even felt from a foot away and it's distracting to his sleep habits.  
Louis isn't sure why Harry isn't like Jamie; why he's not turned off by everything that is Louis. For the past three years, all he's heard was that he needs to go on a diet and workout more and stay out of the sun and buy nicer clothes and have nicer things. He's never have someone tell him he's fit or touch him so softly or kiss him so carefully or hold him as though he's something delicate that could break any second. Jamie's never done that for him yet Louis was so sure he was the love of his life. Now though, wound up in everything that is Harry, he's sure that Jamie isn't. He's not sure if Harry is that one, but he knows that he's something he wants; something he definitely needs.  
And now that he's got him, oh so close, he doesn't want him to go; doesn't want him to push him away and tell him he's disgusting and too sweaty. All he wants is for him to kiss him the way he did last night and hold him the way he is right now.


End file.
